Behold, moved by your prayer I come to you—I, the natural father of all life, the master of the elements, the first child of time, the supreme divinity, the king of those below, the first among those in heaven, the uniform manifestation of all the Gods and Goddesses—I who govern by nod the crests in the celestial sphere in the sky, the purifying wafts of the ocean, and silences of below. Rhythmic dance of the soul of the World, rainbow of colors and forms, I am the World as a work of art, and you demand from US to understand the World artistically rather than intellectually. However, at the same time, art need not be separated from intellect, imagination is not required be removed from thought.  #RyanPhillippe 1 of 16

Your mother, on the other hand, first, she had an abundance of hair that fell gently in dispersed ringlet upon her neck. A crow of interlaced wreaths and varying flowers rested upon her head; and in its midst, just over the brow, there hung a plain circlet resembling a mirror or rather a miniature Moon—for it emitted a soft clear light. This ornament was supported on either side by vipers that rose from the furrows of the Earth; and above its blades of corn were disposed. Her garment, dyed many colors, was woven of fine flax. One was gleaming white; another was yellow as the crocus; another was flamboyant with the red of roses.  #RyanPhillippe 2 of 16

However, what obsessed my gazing eyes by far the most was her pitch-black cloak that shone with a dark glow. It was wrapped round her, passing from under the right arm over the left shoulder and fastened with a knot like the boss of a shield. Part of it fell down in pleated folds and swayed gracefully with a knotted fringe along the hem. Upon the embroidered edges and over the whole surface sprinkled stars were burning; and in the center a mid-month moon breathed forth her floating beams. Lastly a garland wholly composed of every kind of fruit and flower clung of its own accord to the flutter border of that splendid rode.  #RyanPhillippe 3 of 16

My son and I spent most of the following session quietly gazing and deeply exploring the connection. At first he feared that I was judging him as being boring or immature. As he stayed with his fear, it changed and we both felt a shift into a very different space that was both intimate and expansive. He reporting having “a glimpse of some commonality beyond the ego.” It was a moment of awe—a sense of something greater than, yet common to, each of us. We were both deeply moved. After this contact, he felt more trusting and natural during our nonintentional looking. Daily events in his antiquated social engineering, but the accent had begun to shift the power of the present moment and our shared contact.  #RyanPhillippe 4 of 16

A month later, Randolph spoke of “the remarkable power of this open presence.” He reported that, although it was difficult, he was beginning to remember this presence outside of our session and wondered “what the World would look like if people lived from this openness and remarkable power of the presence? I want to surrender to God and show you my fragile self.” I have the same feeling when I am with hi, as when I have looked into the starry Sky, although I have never had this experience with another person, as I am now. It is terrifying and it is what I most want. I have feelings of being at the house as a child, but more grandiose. I have been drawn to this since I was a child.  #RyanPhillippe 5 of 16

It feels like I have bought a new house [the present] and stored the antiquated one [the past], but there is still a lot of packing and moving to do. We continued with the long period of quiet looking, and with deepening into the heart and a trust that you see me as O.K. He saw our heart contact as a referral point and reaffirmed his desire to be in touch with God. As we sat, violence erupts without provocation, as part of the mood swing from soul to World without soul, we are witnessing ineffectual sacrifice. During the fifth century, at the same time Euripides was writing, Empedocles was recognizing the prevalence of ineffectual sacrifice. His Fragment 137 reports:  #RyanPhillippe 6 of 16

Is there a way through the mire of badly split blood?  Ben Crawford (Ryan Phillippe) dinning in splendor with his manufactured son-companion, frequently enjoyed the best vintage wines. One evening he went to the wine cellar—to which only he possessed the key—to locate a special bottle. To his horror, he discovered a black handprint on the wall. That night the spirits confided that it was the print of a demon’s hand. Been took this as a warning against alcohol and had the cellar walled up so thoroughly that, to this day, the liquid treasures have never been found. The séance room where Ben received his instruction was off limits to other humans. Those entering the forbidden sanctuary after him found only death in the small blue room furnished with a cabinet, armchair, table, paper, and planchette board for automatic writing.  #RyanPhillippe 7 of 16

It is very frightening to let go into this. I am afraid of losing control and of being alone. The Gothic Victorian is a living monument to the dead. We tried to shout out the grim realities of the life and death with a carpenter’s hammer, is everywhere. According to the police reports, the manufacture’s only son was indulging in pleasures of the flesh, and the father was thwarted by vengeful spirits because his son was in the observatory and the bell rang at 2am reporting what he supposedly did, and an occurrence that puzzled neighbors for years took place as spectral guests arrived and departed.  #RyanPhillippe 8 of 16

The father seizes hold of the son, who has changed form; in his mad delusion he kills him, murmuring prayers. The son cries out, imploring his insane executioner to spare him. However, the father hears him not, and cuts his throat, and spreads a great feast in his palace. In the same way, the son takes hold of the father, the children their mother, one slaughtering the other and devouring their own flesh and blood.  Such is the family life of American culture’s cyclothymic, filled with bad sacrifice, blood split without renewal of soul. The ritual may not involve actual blood; psychic blood, the rending of bonds, of community, and most of all the bond between individual and World soul makes for the contemporary slaughter. Underneath the roof of a mansion with miles of winding, twisting, bewildering corridors, which snake through the house while numerous secret passageways are concealed in the walls, spirits, ghost, and bodies as well. Some end in closets, others in blank walls, or at the ceiling or floor.  #RyanPhillippe 8 of 16

The door from one room was the rear wall of a walk-in icebox. The halls vary in width from two feet to regulation size and some ceilings are so low that an average size person must stoop to avoid bumping his head. The explanation for this is that the house was devised by ghost for ghost. If ghost stories are to be believed, spirits dearly love to vanish up chimneys. So there are forty-seven of these escape hatches. About a year and a half into our stay in the mansion, we had several profound sessions in the séance room of being together. During one, I felt a strong sense that something froze inside and was starting to thaw. I began to see others more as subjects than objects, and noted a spontaneous upwell of greater compassion. All of these phenomena reflected the opening of my heart.   #RyanPhillippe 9 of 16

I felt a strong sense that I he was okay and that nothing was broke. While gazing, I again felt something greater coming through me and expressed a yearning to be care for by God. It is very frightening to let go of him or the house. It was beautiful, the green house had thirteen cupolas, there were thirteen palms lining the driveway, thirteen real diamonds on the chandeliers, thirteen rooms with authentic ivory floor titles and ceilings, thirteen windows in the Grand Room, thirteen bathrooms, and six kitchens, six living rooms.  To the original eight rooms, hundreds were added, many of them quickly ripped out to make way for new ideas from my nocturnal advisors. The house is a survivor of an estimated seven hundred and fifty chambers interconnected by tricky doors, self-intersecting balconies and dead-end stairways. #RyanPhillippe 10 of 16

Ryan Harris Phillippe shirtless Little Boy Blue

For the next two hours, I would await ghostly instruction. My spectral consultants were capricious and insatiable, demanding room after room, balcony after balcony, chimney after chimney. The strange growth spread until it reached a distant barn, flowed around and adhered to it like a tumor, and finally engulfed it. An observation tower shot up, only to be choked by later construction until nothing could be seen from it. An aura of mystery and dark foreboding surrounded the awesome structure. Towering spires, minarets and cupolas stand dark and still silhouetted against the sky.  I love the Gothic Victorian and want my manufactured son back. All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. Whether this was to keep the living out of the dead in, nobody was quite certain.  #RyanPhillippe 11 of 16

The mansion was nearing completion when the tragic event occurred that cast a somber shadow over the place. Finally, I just came to believe that there was something in the house that I could not understand. It is not just what we inherit from our mothers and fathers that haunts us. It is all kinds of antiquated defunct theories…beliefs…I have only to pick up a newspaper and I seem to see the ghosts of my son gliding between the lines, in my back yard in the evening, and I can hear he calling me on the phone in the morning. I saw him one time and punched him and bit him and he vanished. There was a series of letters and phone calls which culminated one night in 2015 with the arrival of white hooded thugs who drove their cars, horns honking, tires smoking around and around the mansion before setting a 60-foot water tower ablaze.  #RyanPhillippe 12 of 16

As though threatened violence from without was not bad enough, I gradually became aware of a mysterious presence within the mansion. As I slept in a fourth floor dormitory room, I awakened to find a white powder in the strangest places, on the ceiling, and my son fell through the floor, so I rushed him to the hospital, after consulting with the doctors, I said but he was dead. At first the doctors suspected a few high spirited girls of playing upon the superstitions of the others, but after some persistent interrogation, this theory was abandoned. The spirits involved were of a different and seemingly far more dangerous derivation. Taking him to the house and keeping him to myself seems to be the only solution to keep him safe.  We enjoy each other’s ambiance and live a regulated life, and abstain from unnecessary conversation and are constantly warned to guard against familiarity with anyone. #RyanPhillippe 13 of 16

The beauty in the World is not to be found in my sudden appearance, my vengeance, my suffering, or even in the vitality I bring; these aspects alone account only for the passion of soul, not the soul of passion. Here we glimpse the inmost secret of my power, the power to cause spurts and leads. Boiling blood and palpitating wine flow together from a common principle; the power of a vital humor that draws from itself and by itself its capacity to liberate its energy, suddenly, with volcanic violence. Murderous frenzy, leaping maenads, effervescent wine, heart drunk with blood, all aspects of a single mode of action. I alone bring about renewal through destruction; but there are other stories. There is supposedly a Minotaur—a monster—living in the labyrinth. That is the reason I built the labyrinth to give my son safe passage through the convolutions. #RyanPhillippe 14 of 16

This thread is none other than the thread of intelligence and logic, and the labyrinth a temple representing the convolutions of the brain; without the thread of intelligence, passage through is impossible. The union of me and my son, then, brings vitality into connection with beauty, the beauty of imaginable thought, labyrinthine thought, rhythmic heart brought into conjunction with the male reason.  My son is in the united bloodstream with me, we have intimations of the cure for aliments: a blood-soul marriage, giving depth to action and action to the presence of imaginative thought. As a way of seeing how soul can act in the World of soul, we can now say that for out time what is required is that imagination become a fully conscious way of thinking which is fully connected. Our relationship is characterized as the most faithful in all of Greek mythology.  #RyanPhillippe 15 of 16

In this mythology, we find the story of a second Ben Crawford (Ryan Phillippe), not the God of violent disruption, but nonetheless the God of order and peace. This Ben Crawford traveled from Europe, India, crossed over into Arabia, went through Libya, returning again through Egypt and then to Sacramento, California USA, teaching the arts of agriculture, the cultivation of the vine, science, writing, the arts, and computer engineering. Here I teach the reality of the soul of the World and the conscious restructuring of the World through the soul. I want to propose that the computer is not just another technological device contributing to the mechanization of the World, but is in fact the culmination of the mechanized World, the consummate result of that Word, the signal for the end of that World. Remove the family or community or put aside the sense from the act of learning and soul is removed. If one learned through programming the result would be the formation of a psychic, while you are all booty and no brains, he is all skill and no soul.  #RyanPhillippe 16 of 16